


Phil, the Virtuoso

by Im_Innocent_I_Swear



Category: Dan Howell - Fandom, Khada Jhin - Fandom, League of Legends, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Phil Lester - Fandom, dan and phil
Genre: AU, Anonymity, Arrogance, Art, Blood, Brutality, Cop!Dan, Death, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Great Fashion, Guns, Killing, Love, M/M, Maniac, Marionettes, Masks, Murder, Narcissism, Poetry, Police, Screaming, Serial Killer!Phil, Serial Killers, Shooting, Smut, Strange friendship, Theatre, Torture, aesthetic, friends - Freeform, insane, psychopaths, style, travelling, unlikely friendship, whisper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-03-21 12:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13740543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_Innocent_I_Swear/pseuds/Im_Innocent_I_Swear
Summary: Dan Howell, a young cop.He was fairly new to the work and he was more than honoured to receive his first real mission.The Virtuoso Case.Phil, also known as The Virtuoso, was an infamous masked murderer who sees himself as an artist. Using his gun as a paintbrush, he leaves gruesome displays of corpses or puts on a show in local theaters.Years and years of hunting the demon, the authorities finally found where the next show would take place.An undercover cop must attend the show and murder the Virtuoso.However, choosing their finest actor and new recruit turns out not to be their best idea.Dan can't help but to be intrigued and amazed by Phil's work and falls into a spiral of self-discovery and fearing himself as well as the Virtuoso.





	1. Chapter 1

**Phil, the Virtuoso**

_Art requires a certain... cruelty_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This was the first time the team had found out where performances took place.  
After years they were finally going to catch Phil, the Virtuoso.

Phil, also known as the Virtuoso, is a meticulous masked criminal psychopath who believes murder is art. The serial killer works mostly as an assassin, but tends to pick victims himself from time to time.  
Using his gun Whisper as his paintbrush, the Virtuoso creates works of artistic brutality, horrifying victims and onlookers. He gains a cruel pleasure from putting on his gruesome theatre, making him the best choice for his clients to send the most powerful of messages: terror.  
For years, the streets of London have been plagued by the infamous Virtuoso. Throughout the city, the monster slaughtered scores of travellers and sometimes whole farmsteads, leaving behind twisted displays of the corpses. Armed forces had searched forests, towns, and patrolled the road – but nothing showed the beast’s grisly work.  
During the several years, the Virtuoso had gained followers, fans, making him decide to put on a _killer_ show every now and then.  
London’s finest detectives tried to find where the performances took place for months, finding nothing.  
After finally finding and torturing one of the Virtuoso’s followers, they found out where the next show was going to be.  
And they were going to get him.

~~~~

“Okay, okay, okay,” Dan nervously breathed through his mask and walked into the theatre.  
This was it. They were finally going to catch him.  
The team sent out Dan, their finest actor, as the undercover agent who was going to attend the Virtuoso’s show. Not only because of his acting, but also because, sadly, the man had nothing to lose. This all made him the most qualified for the deadly assignment.  
Dan fidgeted with his mask at the jaw for a second, checking if it was still in place. It had taken hours to craft the damn thing. Knowing little about the Virtuoso, they _did_ know how much he appreciated art, asymmetry and golden shades. Therefore Dan’s mask was gold with carefully sculpted eye sockets. It had several engraved swirls on the cheeks and some artistic shapes on the forehead. The mouth was closed and the lips were extra shiny with little circles on them. This was one of Dan’s proudest creations and it was sure to impress the Virtuoso.

The theatre was packed with masked people, standing in front of their seats. Anonymity was clearly something they treasured. Dan’s eyes shifted from underneath his mask and tried to adapt, finding his seat near the stage and sitting down. The curtain was closed. Dan’s heart pounded in his chest. This was going to change everything.

There was a plan. Dan was going to attend the show and try to get the Virtuoso’s attention, he was going to be alone with him and then… kill him. Dan had never killed anyone before, but he practiced in the shooting range. He was naturel at hitting targets so this should be easy. Dan, however, was terrified. For the killing as well as the man he had to kill.

Dan’s thoughts were interrupted by the clacking of shoes on the stage when he looked up, he couldn’t help but gasp. There he was.  
His mask was ivory white with engravings on the left side of the forehead, some swirls on the left side of the mouth and underneath the right eye. Dan clenched his teeth together as the whole crowd started screaming and shouting. He quickly joined them to blend in. The Virtuoso stopped in the centre of the stage, in front of the curtain, and slowly raised his hand. The whole audience quickly silenced.  
Dan swallowed thickly.

In front of him stood the mass murderer they had been looking for for years. He was wearing a creamy white long poncho that was short on his shoulders and had a long and thin cape-like look. The creamy white matched perfectly with his mask .The poncho had an artistic golden swirl. He wore black tight pants and knee high, tight fitting, golden boots. Underneath his poncho, he head a red collar sticking out. His right arm was covered in slim fitting golden armour. On his left arm, he had a fingerless, elbow high, black glove with black painted nails. Dan could say whatever he wanted, but this psychopath did have a sense of style.  
He heard the Virtuoso chuckle low.

“Welcome,” Phil spoke, he had a surprisingly deep, raspy voice. He gestured for everyone to sit down. “Places, everyone, places, please!”

Dan sat right at the front, centre of the stage. He was closer to Phil than everyone there.  
He heard the Virtuoso sigh and swallow.

“Today, you will learn what beauty truly is!” the man exclaimed with big hand gestures. “They will dance, they will sing, they will **die**!”

The crowd cheered and applauded. They quickly quieted down as the Virtuoso raised his hand again

“One day my shows will be in front of everyone, in the open. My genius will be understood – eventually,” he said calmly.

The crowd cheered and Dan cheered too, raising his fists in the air and he could’ve swore that the man glimpsed at him, making his heart pound.

“This stage is beneath my talent, but I shall elevate it!” the Virtuoso exclaimed, raising a fist. “This is my calling! I am pure. My work is pure. Art **should** terrify. They call me mad. All artists are mad!”

The crowd cheered once more. 

“I cannot be good, I must be _perfection_!” the Virtuoso continued calling out, his voice now obviously amplified by a not-visible microphone. “No poet’s words could match my craft! The world might be cruel, but it doesn’t have to be ugly!” 

The audience got more and more hyped up at the words of their idol. 

“And now… the curtain… rises!” Phil yelled above the crowd. The curtain slowly rose and Dan gasped. Behind the Virtuoso four people appeared. The crowd started yelling and screaming louder. Cheering. Agreeing with this horrible act. 

The victims were tied up with ropes hanging from the ceiling, where Dan couldn’t look. A woman and three men. They were tied around the neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists and knees; like marionettes. 

They were very much alive. 

“Our performance begins!” Phil exclaimed and the ropes got tightened. The four people gasped almost in unison as the rope around their limps tightened and they slowly ascended. They started struggling and wiggling as their ropes got pulled and let go, making their limps move. Dan heard them choke, gasp and squeal. 

The Virtuoso reached behind his back and pulled out a big gun. Creamy white, like his mask, with several engravings. It was very aesthetically pleasing, Dan had to admit. Phil hummed low as his long, slender fingers slid across the gun, looking at it, concentrating on it. He slowly looked up and the wicked grinning mask made Dan’s spine tingle. 

"It’s very simple – when I shoot, they dance,” Phil said, sounding triumphant. His mask hid his face, but Dan knew he was smiling. Phil slowly raised his gun. Silence fell. “Now watch my puppets dance.” 

He started firing and the crowed went ballistic. Blood spattered around as Phil aimed for the legs, bullets shooting right through them and not missing once. The ropes were getting pulled and let go, but too late to dodge Phil’s fire. The victims screamed in pain as the Virtuoso shot all of them in the leg, one by one. Phil paused to reload his gun, softly humming. Dan felt goose bumps on his arms and tightened his jaw. This man was insane. 

After reloading his gun, he raised it again, a bit higher this time, and fired once more, hitting them in and around the thighs. He acted in a subtle rhythm that Dan felt captured by without noticing. 

“One, two, three, four, two, two, three, four,” he quietly hummed as he shot another four bullets at his victims. The ropes being pulled, but once again, not fast enough. The victims screamed out in pure agony, making Dan’s spine tingle. He was close to the stage and could see the fleshy wounds in the victims’ legs. Puddles of blood were forming underneath the victims. Phil started reloading once again. 

Dan took a deep breath and cheered for the murderer, waving enthusiastically. He needed to get his attention, and in a positive way. He saw the Virtuoso glance at him again as the man loaded his fourth bullet. He held his gaze longer this time. 

He finished reloading and aimed at his victims once more, for the lower stomach this time. 

“The trigger on a loaded weapon…” Phil sighed, sounding husky, “it whispers for us to act.” 

He unleashed another shot. He paused every time he hit a victim, carefully listening to their cries and howls. 

“Yes, scream for me!” Phil exclaimed and laughed maniacally, the audience joining. “Smiles and screams, I bring both!” 

He shot his fourth bullet, hitting one of the men in his stomach and the bullet passed through him entirely. Blood gushed from the wound, onto the stage. Dan’s whole body tingled as the screams filled his ears. 

“Please! I’m begging you! Stop this! I have a family! Children!” one of the men started begging, making the Virtuoso look up at him. He slowly raised his hand, making the crowd quiet once more.  
It was crazy to Dan how well the masked crowd would listen to the Virtuoso. Was it out of respect… or fear? 

Phil slowly approached the man, the only sound was his shoes clacking on the stage, and the victims’ gasping breaths. The Virtuoso stopped inches away from the man, who was still whispering pleas. Phil slowly bent towards his victim until his mask almost touched him. 

“Your life had no value before me,” he simply said, his voice low and monotone, “Beauty is pain.” 

“I’m begging you, I will do anything,” the man cried, blood pouring from his wounds, “don’t do this. Don’t kill me!” 

“You… will be poetry!” Phil exclaimed, stepping backwards, his hands in the air. “You will be **beautiful**!” 

He raised his gun to the man’s stomach again. 

“You **will** perform!” he roared and shot him. “One!” 

The man screamed and the crowd cheered again. 

“Face the crowd and _bleed_ for them!” he shot again. “Two!” again. “Three!”. 

The man coughed up blood and Dan almost couldn’t look, but he somehow couldn’t avert his gaze. Dan felt intrigued. Interested. He was fascinated. 

The man needed only one bullet and he was a goner. The Virtuoso pointed his gun at the man’s head. 

“Your final scene begins,” he said slowly. A violin started playing from backstage, making Dan’s hairs raise. The man spat out some blood, a defeated look on his face. 

“I’m a kindergarten teacher…” he choked out, “the children… they won’t understand-”  
Dan’s eyes were wide as he looked at the man. Feeling so much, but at the same time… nothing. 

Dan saw the Virtuoso making a singular, flawless pirouette, raising his gun as he spun. He landed perfectly and pulled the trigger. 

“Four!” 

The shot rang in Dan’s ears. Everything went in slow motion. He somehow saw the bullet hurl towards the man, digging itself right in between his eyebrows, through the skin. It left through the back of the man’s scalp, a dark pink mist emitting around it. 

Dan couldn’t move. He didn’t know if he had never felt more afraid or if he had never felt calmer. 

“Each bullet is a song!” Phil exclaimed and started shooting at the other 3 victims, “Each bullet will be a dance! Dance for me!” 

Dan looked in awe as he continued to kill the remaining men and woman. He found himself somehow cheering and screaming for the man. He watched in amazement as the life drained from the victims, seeing their bodies go limp. His mouth hung open and he ogled the culprit. 

The curtain went down and the Virtuoso stepped to the front centre stage. The audience applauded, whistled and yelled. 

“I _live_ for the applause, the chosen ones will die for it,” Phil said content. He raised his hand again, making the audience quiet down. The man sighed deeply, but it didn’t sound satisfied nor fulfilled. It sounded… angry. “I have risen from the _filth_ and _muck_. I am the lotus blossom. _I_ am beauty. This… passion… compels me. I swear each performance is the last, but I lie every time. I can’t live without the euphoria of my performance!” he sounded more and more enthusiastic, ambitious and terrifying, “It is only when the gun fires, that I am alive… Until they stop me, I _will_ keep going!” 

The crowd applauded and whistled again as the Virtuoso bowed for them. Dan clapped along, horrified yet full of admiration and consternation.  
What had happened that crafted Phil into the Virtuoso? 

Phil turned and started walking away. Dan’s widened his eyes. The plan. The only chance to catch and stop the Virtuoso. Shit shit shit. 

“Mister Virtuoso!” Dan exclaimed, jumping up from his seat. No response. Fuck! “Virtuoso! Phil!” still no response and he had almost disappeared backstage. “Philip!” the Virtuoso froze and his head turned a tad bit to the right. He stood still for only about a second, and then disappeared behind the curtain. Dan cursed and panicked. The audience was slowly leaving. What to do? Detain one of the followers and find the next performance? No, it had to happen now. Catch the Virtuoso now. 

Dan made his decision and sprinted towards the stage, climbing on it and running backstage. He heard the crowd yell behind him, but he ignored it. 

All or nothing. 


	2. Chapter 2

  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Dan squinted his eyes and looked around. It was dark backstage. It smelt a little dusty and stale.  
Dan quickly scanned the area and he saw the tall, thin silhouette of the Virtuoso making his way to a descending staircase. Dan gasped and ran towards him, reaching for the arm with the long, black glove.

“Mister Virtuoso!” he called out, making Phil stop dead in his tracks. He slowly turned around. Dan gasped and froze, taking a step backwards. He quickly retreated his arm, his hands fidgeted. It was dead silent for a few seconds. Dan couldn’t look up at the man in front of him. He just couldn’t.

“Tell me… what gave you the indication that I want you to follow me backstage,” the Virtuoso said slowly, low… dangerous. Dan knew it was a question, but the way Phil said it sounded more or less like a threat. Dan opened his mouth but the words wouldn’t come.  
This was the Virtuoso. A mass murdering psycho.

“I- uuh.. I just..” Dan stammered, his knees shaking, still not making eye-contact. Phil slowly approached him and Dan looked up. He was so close to him that he could see his eyes. His actual human eyes. They were light blue. Cold. Piercing.

Dan swallowed.

“ _What_ are you doing here,” Phil spoke low and slow and Dan knew he was gone for sure. Phil slowly reached for his gun, making Dan widen his eyes.

“Because you’re amazing!” Dan exclaimed scared. He thanked the Gods that he was wearing his mask and Phil couldn’t see his terrified face. “The way that you- that you express yourself! I’m s-so impressed! Your words, they made me… made me feel… things I have never felt! I just- I needed to meet you! I’m very sorry, mister Virtuoso.”

It was dead silent once again. Dan felt his heart in his ears. The tension felt unbearable.

Phil suddenly chuckled low and Dan saw his shoulders relax.

“Now **that** is what I want to hear,” he said and Dan could hear the grin in his voice. He stepped even closer to Dan, bending towards his face. “I beg your pardon if this makes you feel uncomfortable, but I must say: your mask is _beautiful_! Sublime!”

“I- I made it my-myself… uuhh… for this performance, mister Virtuoso,” Dan stuttered, cursing himself for being so nervous. “It means… so much to me that you like it…”

“Tell me, young artist, what do I call you?” the Virtuoso asked, sounding content.

“I- uh… my name is Dan…iel. Daniel,” he stammered and swallowed again.

“Daniel… I’m delighted to hear that you enjoyed the performance,” Phil said, “A lot of people wouldn’t understand, but art requires a certain… cruelty. This is my love! Each bullet is a piece of my soul. Each shot is a piece of me.”

“Your words… they intrigue me,” Dan said, genuinely interested in the Virtuoso’s brain. “Why do you do the things that you do? How did you-”

“Oh please, young artist,” he interrupted Dan, raising his hand to silence him, “An icon doesn’t have to explain himself… All I can say is that I am a slave to this passion. In carnage, I _bloom_ … like a flower in the dawn.”

“Wow, I- how do you come up with all those metaphors?” Dan asked with a smile. He heard Phil chuckle from under his mask.

“I have had a lot of time to… think, young artist,” he said slow, “I have been doing this for quite some time… I have grown. In my performances as well as my words.”

“You interest me so much, sir,” Dan said, slowly forgetting about the plan, forgetting about ending the Virtuoso. He wanted to know more. Wanted to hear more. “The moment I saw you… I… I was- I was just-”

“Tut, tut,” Phil chuckled, “I know. I am glad that you enjoy my work…” a short silence fell and it seemed like the Virtuoso was searching for words. Hesitating. “You… seem… different. Peculiar, almost. You… impressed me with your crafts, unlike many others… May I invite you to my next performance, young artist?”

“Your ne- oh wow! I wou- yes! Thank you, mister Virtuoso!” Dan exclaimed, truly baffled by the Virtuoso’s kind words. “I feel so honou-”

“But first, I must ask you to show me your face, Daniel,” Phil said, his voice suddenly changing, sounding darker than before. “You must certainly know that my work is dangerous. But you… inspire me. I noticed you in my audience, you know. Your mask… the colours, the composition, it’s just… transcendent! And your energy during my performance; truly motivational. So, _darling_ , take off your mask for me.”

“I… I don’t know, sir,” Dan stammered, feeling his face heat up. Phil stepped closer to him, his head slowly falling to the side.

“You wouldn’t miss my performance, would you?” he asked, sounding suspicious. Dan gulped and saw Phil’s hand slowly reach behind him, towards his gun. He’s onto him. But he has never seen Dan’s face. He wouldn’t know him, would he? Or that he was a cop?

Well; here goes nothing.

“I wouldn’t in a million years, mister Virtuoso,” Dan decided and took a deep breath. He reached behind his head and untied the silk knot. He looked down and took off the golden mask, clenching his teeth. He slowly looked up. The Virtuoso’s head moved slowly to the right. He took Dan’s chin between his bare thumb and index finger. Dan swallowed and glanced to the right, he had never felt more vulnerable. He saw Phil’s eyes squint as he analysed Dan’s face. His blue orbs rolling across every inch. Dan clenched his teeth and swallowed nervously. He could hear the man breathe quietly through his mask.

Phil leaned back and retreated his hand. A single loud laugh emerged from underneath the mask.

“How lovely!” the man exclaimed and leaned towards Dan again, “My, my, young artist. You truly are a piece of art.”

“I- uhm... thank you…?” Dan slowly said, his face heating up. He did not know if ‘a piece of art’ was well meant, as Phil’s art only consists of torture and death.

“Oh please, young artist, you must not be ashamed,” the Virtuoso said, and chuckled low, “I welcome you to my next performance.”

“Really?” Dan asked, beaming, “Whe-where is it going to take place? And when? Ho-how can I find you?” Dan spoke quick, almost panicked.

“Now, now, darling,” Phil laughed softly, “No rush. Hand me your cell phone, will you dear?”

“My- uuh, sure!” Dan said quickly. Without thinking twice, he dug in his pocket and quickly pulled his phone from it. Dan bit his lip as he unlocked it, relieved as he saw no messages from the squad, knowing that they were probably eagerly waiting for Dan’s return. Dan quickly handed the phone to Phil. He swiftly took it in his long slender fingers and started to type something. After merely a few seconds, he gave the phone back. Dan looked at it, not knowing what the man had done.

“Thank you, I hope to hear from you soon, mister Virtuoso!” Dan exclaimed happily, putting his phone back in his pocket, not daring questioning what the man had done. Phil suddenly took Dan’s wrist and yanked him towards him, his other hand lifting his face up. Phil’s eyes turned to slits and Dan gasped. “Wha-”

“Daniel,” he spoke short and even lower than normal, “You must understand that I trust you. Your ways and beauty have… captured me. This however will not change the fact that I will kill you if you leak any information regarding me and my work. Do you understand?”

“I-… yes, I understand,” Dan said quickly, his breathing ragged. “You don’t have to worry, sir.”

“Hmm, good,” The Virtuoso hummed low, and sighed as he leaned back. “Have a good night, young artist.”

Phil took a deep bow, “Until we meet again.”  
He turned, and walked away. His thin and tall silhouette disappeared in the shadows, leaving Dan rooted.


	3. Chapter 3

Dan was lying if he said he wasn’t eagerly waiting for a text. He checked his phone every 5 minutes, even though he had the sound on full volume. He had received numerous calls from the station and had lied to his captain. He simply told him that he only attended the show for a short period of time as it was too gruesome for him and that he simply couldn’t handle it. He explained that he didn’t call the station himself to inform them about this as he was too ashamed.  
A great lie.  
With this lie, he was also able to take a few days off. Giving him all the time in the world to wait for a sign of the Virtuoso and his mysterious ways.

Dan was restless. He couldn’t focus on anything but Phil. The things the artist had said to him, or the things that he had shown him… The more he thought about the performance he saw, the less he felt disgusted by it. He tried to understand why Phil loved this so much, and why he really couldn’t understand that what he was doing was morally wrong.

The rhythm in which Phil worked was… enchanting, to say the least. He couldn’t get him off his mind. His low voice and chuckles. His cold blue eyes which looked brutal and dangerous, but had a soft tone at the same time. The way he spoke, and his silver tongue.  
The Virtuoso was a smart man with a lot of wisdom, Dan had concluded.

It had been a week since the performance and Dan was certain that he was getting mad. Every thought lead back to the Virtuoso and his compelling ways. Dan had littered his sketchbook with drawings of the mask from different angles and different shades. Some had blood splattered all over, or a very dark tone. Most of them looked like they came straight out of a horror film. But Dan couldn’t look at them in that way. They were beautiful.

He finally found himself wrapped in a soft blanked, slumped on the sofa, sketching another mask. The drawing’s point of view was from the left side this time. Somehow, Dan just didn’t grow tired of drawing the mask.

He was rudely interrupted when he heard his doorbell. Frowning, Dan dropped his blanked on the sofa, put his sketchbook aside and walked to the door.

“Who could this be…?” Dan muttered to himself, a place in his brain hoping it was the Virtuoso and that he had somehow found his address. Dan opened the door and couldn’t help but feel a spark of disappointment.  
It surely was not Phil.  
Just some pale, tall and lanky guy in an orange uniform.

“Package for mister Howell,” the courier said, smiling and handing Dan a thin, long package. Dan frowned and looked at it. A short silence fell as Dan held the package in his hands. He had a dazed look on his face and slowly started shaking his head.

“Sorry, sir, but I think you’re at the wrong door, I don’t remember ordering anything,” Dan slowly said, looking at the package in confusion and turning it around.

“It has your name and your address right here, son! I’m just the delivery guy!” the courier laughed. He spoke with a strange, unfamiliar accent, Dan noticed. And why did he call him son? He surely wasn’t that old.

He looked at the courier for another few seconds, a turmoil look on his face. He looked back down at the package in his hands.

“I’ll just open it inside and find out then,” Dan mumbled, more to himself than to the courier.

“Have a nice day, Daniel!” the courier chirped and turned around.

“Yeah, you too…” Dan murmured absently and closed the door, his eyes fixed on the package. He was halfway towards the living room when he froze.

The courier said his name. How could he know his name? That could only mean-

Dan quickly put the package on the table and grabbed some scissors from a drawer behind him. His heart was racing as he eagerly but carefully stabbed the carton multiple times. Dan finally opened it, his mouth corners curling up as he saw what was inside.

A singular red rose, lying in red petals, with a letter wrapped around it with a ribbon and a bow.

Dan bit his lip as he carefully took the rose out of the small box. He pulled at the bow, loosening the knot, hastily unrolling the letter and quickly reading it.

_“Dearest Daniel,_  
On the coming Saturday night, my stage will be set once again.  
I will bring an opera of death and I very much would be delighted for you to take part in this experience.  
I have sent you a ticket to my performance and have granted you the finest seat in the theatre. On the ticket the location is specified, as well as the time I’m expecting you. I’d love to have a little chat with you before the show, my young artist.  
I would be very pleased to see you again, and I’m eagerly waiting for you, darling.  
Kindest regards,  
Phil, the Virtuoso” 

Dan read it again and again, a big smile slowly developing on his face. A _personal_ letter! Dan let his index finger flow across the cursive letters and words, feeling the dried ink. _Dearest_ … _Darling…_ _My young artists_. _My_ young artist.

Dan looked at the rose, softly pushing his nose into the soft bud and inhaling the sweet scent. 

He briefly closed his eyes and smiled. He read the letter again, holding the rose close to his face, still not able to wipe that grin from his face. In the corner of his eye he spotted something else in the box, in between some rose petals. He put the letter down and softly wiped the petals away, finding a small, golden ticket. He read the date, time and location, biting his lip.  
He couldn’t wait.

After a few minutes of staring at the letter and ticket and rereading them again and again he snapped out of his daze and started looking for a vase for the rose. He quickly found one in his thin, long, glass closet that had stood in the corner of the living room. He filled it with water and let the rose slide into the glass vase. He decided to put it in the middle of the dinner table.

He turned back to the box, the letter and the ticket lying next to it. He ran his hand through the soft, blood red petals, lifting a handful. Lost in thought, he jumped when he heard the doorbell once again. The gentle petals falling from his hand onto the table and floor. Dan looked towards the door. Could it be…?

The doorbell rang again, and some knocking followed. Dan quickly made his way towards the door, passing his mirror in the hallway. He glanced at it and frowned disappointedly. He looked awful. He swiftly ran his hand through his hair, in attempt to make it look better. He had dark bags under his eyes and softly touched them with a pout. The doorbell rang again, longer this time. Dan softly slapped his cheeks twice and hurried to the door. He took a deep breath and opened it.

“Dan! Holy shit, man! You look terrible,” a young man laughed loudly. Dan’s face fell as he saw who was at the door. Surely not Phil.

“Wow, I didn’t think you would be enthusiastic, but you could at least _pretend_ to be happy to see us!” a woman said pouting.

It were two friends from the station. Naomi and Matthew. They had been friends for several years, meeting in the academy and ended working in the same station. Dan truly loved his friends and enjoyed their presence, but he really wasn’t feeling it right now.

“Hey…” Dan mumbled with a sigh.

“Can we come in? We heard how you were feeling and we’re here to cheer you up a little, which is definitely needed, I see,” Matthew announced with a grin plastered on his face. He had a dimple in his left cheek, hazel eyes and dark brown skin. Dan used to have a crush on him but was kindly rejected. Thankfully, it didn’t get awkward or weird and they became even better friends.  
Naomi was a short, Vietnamese girl with long, dark hair, usually tied in a ponytail to keep it out of her face.

“Uuuh… I’m not really prepared for… visitors…,” Dan slowly said, running his hand through his hair.

“Dan… it’s just us!” Naomi exclaimed, “We’ve probably seen worse! Like Matt’s place.”

“Wow, thanks, man,” Matt said, rolling his eyes but smiling anyways.

“I’m sorry, but thanks anyways,” Dan said quietly, cracking a fake smile, and slowly closing the door.

“We brought food…” Matt sung, dragging out the ‘oo’. Dan froze. He hadn’t eaten any proper food in a week. He was too distracted to do anything, let alone prepare a meal for himself.

“What kind of food?” Dan asked, sticking his head around the corner of the door.

“Your favourite noodlesoup,” Naomi chirped, “I made it for you.”

“The one with tofu, Chinese bullion, corn, mushrooms, kale-” Dan started asking.

“…union, and cucumber? Yes,” Naomi interrupted, grinning widely. “I got you extra coriander topping and some organic yoghurt as well! Hurry, so it doesn’t get cold!”

“Well… in that case,” Dan opened the door further, inviting them in. He led them to the living room when suddenly he widened his eyes.

The letter. The ticket. Those were still on the table.

Dan quickly sprinted to the living room, snatching the items off the table and stuffing them into the table drawers. He rapidly wiped the rose petals further underneath the table with his foot.

He hastily turned around, facing his friends who were standing in the doorway.

“Why-” Naomi started.

“I’m just… hungry! I want to eat that noodlesoup!” Dan quickly said, smiling nervously, feeling his face reddening a bit.

“You’re goddamn right, you do!” Naomi exclaimed and put her bag on the table. Matt slowly walked into the room and looked around, shaking his head.

“No wonder you’re doing bad, look at this place!” He sighed with a frown. “Let’s start by opening some windows, it smells like you’ve been dead for a few days.”

Dan scoffed as Matt walked to the windows, opening the curtains and then opening the windows as widely as he could. He exaggeratedly inhaled the air, humming loudly when he exhaled, looking at Dan with raised eyebrows.

“Hmmm… fresh air!” he said theatrically, waving his hands towards his nose. “You haven’t had some for a while, have you? Get some while it’s fresh!”  
Matt continued to open the other window whilst Naomi carefully took the soup bowl from her bag. She took the aluminium foil and saran wrap off. The pleasant smell along with the fresh breeze made Dan instantly feel a little more energised.

“Let me get you a spoon, sugar,” Naomi hummed, running her hand through Dan’s hair and immediately retreating it. “When was the last time you washed your hair? It’s _really_ greasy.”

“I dunno,” Dan mumbled with a shrug. Naomi looked at him with an almost pitiful gaze. She sighed quietly and walked to the kitchen for a spoon.

Dan turned to Matt, surprised as he saw how quickly and accurately he was tidying the room. Matt’s place was always a mess, so this was very unexpected, to say the least. His blanket was folded neatly in the corner of the sofa and some magazines and papers were stacked on the coffee table. Dan let himself fall down on the sofa with a sigh.  
Naomi returned with a spoon and handed it and the bowl to Dan.

Dan wasted no time and he started shoving the noodles down his throat. Vegetables had never tasted this good. His body had been yearning for something nutritious and Dan felt his energy regenerate rapidly, combined with some fresh air.

Matt took a seat in an arm chair on Dan’s right, and Naomi sat down next to him on the sofa. They both looked at him with a worried glance at Dan as he continued to eat as if he was starving.

“Naomi… you’ve really outdone yourself today,” Dan said with his mouth full. “This is amazing!”

“Thank you, Dan…” Naomi said with a smile, slightly grossed out by Dan’s manners. “How are you feeling? You’ve been sick for a while now… we’re worried about you.”

“I’m doing fine, don’t worry,” Dan murmured, taking a break from eating to look up at his friends. “Just didn’t feel like working… felt kinda guilty about fucking up the case, y’know. The whole Virtuoso thing, it freaked me out. And it’s my fault we’re not gonna stop him.”

“It’s not your fault, Dan,” Matt said firmly, “We can only imagine the horrors you must’ve witnessed…”

“Yes… we can only _imagine_ ,” Naomi said, glaring at Matt. Dan frowned at looked at the two.

“Wha-” Dan started and Naomi sighed annoyed.

“Matt wants to know all about what you saw, but you surely don’t want to think or talk about the whole thing in general, right,” Naomi babbled. Dan noticed a mixture of annoyance and discomfort. Dan slowly looked down in his lap and sighed.

He must pretend that he hated the show and that it was traumatising.

“It’s… fine really,” Dan said slowly, hesitating. Should he really talk about it? It could be obvious that he enjoyed it, he couldn’t blow his cover.

“You really don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Matt said, “BUT… I’m super curious. You don’t have to get detailed or anything. Just some basics, you know what I mean. Only if you want to, of course.”

“…Well… when I got there, everyone was wearing their masks and stuff,” Dan started, looking down. He hoped his acting skills would help him out here. He felt Naomi and Matt eyeing him. “I found my seat, which was in the centre-front, so I kind of had the best seat and I was really close to the stage.”

“Wow… how many people were there?” Matt asked with big eyes.

“I don’t know, a lot… so many,” Dan frowned, wondering how many there actually were. “Couple hundred I think.”

“Wow,” Matt sighed, shaking his head, “That’s so fucked up.”

“Yeah… the whole thing was,” Dan said quietly. “People were talking and stuff, you know. Then someone walked on the stage and they started screaming and cheering-”

“What did he look like?” Matt interrupted enthusiastically. Dan saw Naomi shoot him a glare.

“Uhmm… what he was wearing, you mean?” Dan asked, frowning and tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah, but also like… his mask,” Matt said, nodding, “Especially his mask. I’ve heard about it!”

“His mask…” Dan sighed frowning, running his hand through his hair. His eyes fell on his sketch book on the small table, next to the sofa. He reached for it and laid it in his lap. “I actually… I have drawn it a couple of times.”

“Can… can we see?” Naomi asked softly, looking at Dan. He nodded once and opened the sketch book. The two gasped quietly as Dan skimmed the pages.

“So… it somewhat looked like this… I guess,” Dan said slowly, still not sure if he should show this.

“Somewhat?” Naomi asked frowning, letting her fingers slide across one of the drawings. “These are super realistic and detailed.” She looked at Dan. “This really impacted you, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah… I guess,” Dan mumbled, staring at his drawings. He felt his mouth corners curl up as his index finger tip trailed the jawline of the mask. He quickly snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat.

“I didn’t know you could draw this good,” Matt said quietly, leaning closer and flipping a few pages. “These are amazing.”

“Thanks…” Dan mumbled with a smile. He closed the book with a soft clap. A short silence followed.

“So… what happened,” Naomi asked.

“Well, he stood on the stage and started talking,” Dan continued, putting the sketch book on the coffee table. “He said some real scary things. He said that his work was beautiful and pure; and if nobody stopped him, he would keep going… it sounded like a sort of pep-talk. Everyone was cheering and shouting. I had to cheer with them so I wouldn’t stand out, being in the front and all.”

“Wow, that’s… I can’t imagine how you must have felt,” Naomi said quietly, looking at Dan with big eyes.

“Yeah…” Dan mumbled. He sighed deeply. “Then, the curtain rose and there were four people tied up like puppets… they were still alive. And then the Virtuoso started shooting at them and I was so close to the stage and I could see all the blood and the wounds and they were screaming and crying and begging and I couldn’t handle it and ran.” Dan babbled quickly, making himself seem nervous. “It was so horrible… disgusting… nauseating…” Dan continued, searching for more synonyms but settling with these.

“Jesus Christ, no wonder you’re feeling like this,” Naomi exclaimed softly, “Is there anything we can do for you?”

“No… not really,” Dan responded with a polite smile, “I just need some days off and I’ll be back after. Don’t worry.”

“Hmm, okay then,” Naomi mumbled. He gaze turned to Matt who had gone awfully quiet. “Matt? Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m fine,” he muttered and cleared his throat. He suddenly stood up. “I just remembered, I have a _thing_ … so… I gotta go…”

He vaguely gestured towards the door and ran his hand through his short curls, looking at the floor.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dan asked, with a worried glance.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Matt said, seeming impatient. “Naomi, you coming with?”

“Oh, okay,” Naomi answered and stood up, brushing some invisible dust off her jeans. She glanced at Dan. “Call us when you need something, sugar. And don’t forget to finish your soup. I put the yoghurt in the fridge as well!”

“Let me walk you out,” Dan suggested but Naomi shook her head.

“We know the way, don’t worry,” she smiled, “You finish your soup now, okay? Take care of yourself.”

“We’ll see you later,” Matt mumbled and shortly raised his hand, turning around and leaving. Naomi blew Dan a little kiss and left too.  
Dan listened to the front door opening and closing.  
Alone once more.

**Author's Note:**

> insta: likeaflowerinthedawn  
> snap: maschame  
> Tunblr: likeaflowerinthedawn.tumblr.com  
> don't be afraid to add or follow me!
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> I upload regularly but I do not have a strict schedule.


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